Immortal Things -------------------------------------------
When I was a child there was a porcelain doll
She belonged to my sister
And sat on the very top of a wooden bookcase
Someone cracked open the back of her skull, just under
I wasnít allowed to touch her
And the guilt that I felt
And her fragile foggy white head
Painted to smile
In an offlandish way
Once when no one was watching, they were all asleep
Or cornered together over cookies at the table
I went inside my sisterís bedroom
And I climbed upon her shelf
Leaving tiny toe tracks in the dust as I went
I collected her
And Oh so carefully brought her back down with me
Cradled underneath my arms
Withholding so much pressure
But remaining secure
I sat in the floor of the unlit bedroom, curtains drawn to hide the dusty rainy daylight
And I thought I can fix her
I turned her head over and over in my hands
Listening to the wind chime song of thick porcelain on porcelain
And I studied
And had a clever idea
Until the creaking of the door and the crack of light shed on the evidence of my crime
And I hurried with the doll back up the bookcase
And down again before my mother could see me
Standing alone in the middle of a dark room that did not belong to me
WHAT are YOU doing in here she hollered sternly
And firmly scooted me at the small of my back
Shutting the door behind us
this is an intriguing and beautifully written story that captures the innocence of childhood and a wonderful innate compassion. it was lovely to read. if you are up to publish this for a prize, then as far as the punctuation goes, i would agree with jase. however, if you just wrote it for your own pleasure, rather than for the rest of us, then the piece is yours and you keep it just the way you want! and i agree. it is lovely.
you portray a story here deftly and with broad yet defined brushstrokes; i see this all in my mind's eye and it made me nostalgic for my own childhood, for life right now to be made simpler and essentially... less of a hassle to deal with.
i enjoy the truth you write of here, most of all. it shines through, this realness i can almost touch.
one little nitpick: "And I thought I can fix her"
change "can" to "could" to keep it past tense like the rest of this piece? up to you, of course...